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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30054327">I Painted Your Nails Under Fluorescent light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MozzarellaSticks/pseuds/MozzarellaSticks'>MozzarellaSticks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dream kinda hits on George, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Is that not what you want, Kissing, M/M, Nail Polish, No Angst, No Sex, Pining, Pure, Quality Time, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Sexual Themes, Song Lyrics, sorry - Freeform, tagging just feels like im being forced to re-think my life decisions, they dont fuck, yea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:20:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30054327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MozzarellaSticks/pseuds/MozzarellaSticks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George didn't know what he was thinking when he painted his nails blue, but he does know he didn't expect Sapnap to point it out to Dream when George was trying to finish his sandwich, which, in turn, he never got to finish. He didn't expect Dream to actually be interested in it, the... painting nails part. He surely didn't expect to actually be sitting under the fluorescent light of his apartment while painting his crush's nails while tuning into the sound of the fan playing steadily in the background.</p><p> </p><p>tldr: three thousand words of painting nails and pining</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>163</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Painted Your Nails Under Fluorescent light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“You have so much blue!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream let out an airy laugh, probably at his comment. George only bit his tongue and rolled his eyes. Here they were, Dream and George, spending quality time together, about to paint nails, Dream’s nails to be specific because that was a two-person job. George also knew that his friend’s white tea was going to be ruined if assistance wasn’t made.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s the only color I can see” George spat it out like common sense. Making quick eye contact with George, Dream couldn’t help but shoot back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know, there’s just so much of it!” Dream's hands muddled through a broad variety of George’s blue-shaded nail polish. He skimmed his finger over the labels such as </span>
  <em>
    <span>blue cauliflower </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sapphire eyes. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Most of them made sense, the labels, but some were just outlandish like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goodnight Moon.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Though it wasn’t said, Dream could understand why George had so much blue. It must have looked like a prize compared to the other colors that were available to look upon in his eyes. George, was red-green colorblind, meaning, everything, except course, blue, looked like shit. Well, maybe not to George, he was probably used to it, by now he probably found some beauty in it. Dream couldn’t understand how he survived like this, but it was never really brought into the conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George huffed. “You're just jealous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who said?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me, pick a color.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feisty.” Dream honestly could not help it, a grin was now painted across his face. For why was yet to be said, his win in a pity augment that was short-lived, or their situation. George wouldn’t admit it, but he was extremely nervous. Here sat George, in front of him, the one in only, Dream. Why? To paint his nails of course. The concept of their predicament made George sweat. Sure Dream was a friend, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But it wasn’t George’s fault. It wasn’t George’s fault the six-foot-tall man before him was so unsettlingly attractive. Soft locks of hair grazed his freckled face ever so slightly. His dirty blond hair had been ruffed to an unnecessary extent, and to add it was barely even passable as blond, only when under the necessary amount of lighting you could see the golden locks in their most tender color. Not that George hated it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. He loved it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The way his lips contrasted from his slightly tanned over the skin. They looked so kissable. It wasn’t truly impure, but it felt explicit. What was this man from Florida doing to him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up” The burnet groaned, trying to keep his eyes off of the blond’s veined hands shifted through the assortment of blues and other various colors. Before he had the chance to even look annoyed, the blond lifted his arm up in triumph, a yellowish-colored bottle of nail polished perched comfortably in his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Found it.” He put it simply as if he just found the best one of the bunch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which one is that one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Red?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was expecting you to pick green or something.” Though, George wasn’t annoyed, he couldn’t pinpoint, why, or how, but it was cute. It wasn’t as if George had never seen red, though he was colorblind, he occasionally wore colorblind glasses, not as often as he felt he needed them though. It was a bold color, like fire. It kinda suits Dream, sure, not entirely, but still nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On your nails though?” The enduring man before him questioned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess…” The Britain said unsurely as if he was second-guessing the agreement to paint Dream's nails. He didn’t know how he was going to cope with his mind running circles like this when he was supposed to soon be painting Dream's nails. Dream handed the glass bottle to George. Once in his hands, he realized this one was new, fresh, and ready to be opened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Classic Red</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you even have red?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I not have red nail polish?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry, my apologies. But you can’t see red.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your apologies accepted, but I think I just got it because…” He trailed off. Wait. Why did he get red? Maybe he just wanted red, it was classic red, to say the least. That made sense, he probably just thought it would look nice, even if couldn’t see the color properly without his glasses, which seemed fair enough. “I just wanted a red color, even if I can’t see it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream nodded in response, he did that a lot. What was he thinking? After rolling up the sleeves of the oversized hoodie that draped George, he proceeded to unscrew the black cap of the nail polish, its aroma filling the air, causing the blond to perk up ever so slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should I turn on a fan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George coughed out a “yea” before turning back to his thoughts. They sat in George’s bedroom, the fluorescent light burning above them. He was probably going to have carpet burns in his thighs later as a consequence of wearing a pair of baggy black shorts that matched the black fabric of his hoodie. Dream leaned back into the picture once the fan was on and running, providing calm background noise for the pair. After Dream wiggled out his hand out in front of George in a joking manner, and George took the hint. Dipping into the freshly opened nail polish one last time, the burnet made sure to get the just-right amount of the thick substance on the small brush he was provided with before turning to his task. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took Dream's hand into his own cautiously, as if the Florida man was going to eat him up like prey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eat him up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream could eat him up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George cursed himself for a multitude of reasons, one being the feeling of warmth that dripped from his chest to his abdomen, but the other being thinking such impure thoughts about his friend, his best friend. George was better than that, he knew he was, and he was going to prove it, despite his body’s undeniable actions towards this current situation. It wasn’t George’s fault. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hyper focusing on the hands in front of him, he began to let the thick material drip over the other’s nails. He swayed his fingers in such a way that guided the color. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you do this often?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean- yeah. I’m usually just bored.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m honored that you would do mine.” That comment just so happened to be a comment that George couldn’t help than scoff at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea.”  George gave a weak smile. Something was thick, in the air, and only he could sense it, or at least that’s what he thought. He couldn’t help but worry what would happen if he slipped. He obsessed over the feeling of Dream's hand in his. It made him sweat. What he said was raw truth, he usually did this when he was bored. Meaning that he had done it plenty of times, it shouldn’t be too hard, but for some reason it was. They’re just nails, Dream's nails. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have good nails.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have good nails?” The American accent had challenged back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea, good for painting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ruin it.” George’s lips pursed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay okay, it’s just weird, who says that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you ruined it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Awwwww Georgie, I don’t have good nails?” Dream's lips slouched at George’s previous statement.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut up.” George laughed, it was tinted nervous, but he really did like their conversations, it felt so natural. He loved how Dream sounded so passionate in every statement he made, how the words rolled kindly off of his tongue, like liquid honey. It made George feel all gooey for the Floridian. Lucky for the shorter of the pair, George, the light conversation was enough wind on the situation to blow some of the tension off of George’s back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He continued to focus on Dream's nails, finger after finger, he couldn’t help but squirm under odd silence despite the blowing of the fan. Dream's hands felt so good in his, so big compared to his. The veins running along his knuckles, hidden under lightly tanned skin. It felt so raw, it made George feel so dainty. It’s not like George wasn’t a masculine person, he was a man after all, and just because he painted his nails and Dream's hands were just ever so bigger than his didn’t make him any less than a man, but fuck, that was hot. It made him feel so squeamish, suddenly painting nails, Dream's nails, was one hundred times harder as if it weren’t already. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George bit his lip, finishing the last nail of the first hand. Like the rest, he watched as a molten yellow-colored substance trailed down creating an outer shell that had yet to harden. His hands worked to screw the cap back on, for now at least, and he released the lips he had pursed with a “</span>
  <em>
    <span>pop”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, I’m done, don’t fuck them up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream scoffed, deciding his next move of interest being to tease George</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you going to do my other?” Green eyes found a pair of richly colored, honey brown eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yea.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream softly smiled, seeming content with Britain's answers. It wasn’t awkward, in fact, awkward situations were becoming rarer between him and George. They could strike conversation whenever they wanted, it never felt forced, it just felt... </span>
  <em>
    <span>domestic. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Though he couldn’t deny the sound of the fan and lack of conversation was kinda getting to be repetitive though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should turn on some music.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, do you have any suggestions?” George offered a quizzed look. Dream swallowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you heard of Dissolve?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Wait Wait Wait</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream mentally slapped himself. He could have suggested any song, but he suggested a love song. Maybe next time he should think his words through before blurting them out. That was stupid.  He was stupid, but maybe he could make this work. Of course he thought he could make work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, is it a song?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea, you wanna hear it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure” George replied, a small smile playing across his lips. He looked like an angel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream snatched his phone, quickly learning the difficulties of typing with your non-dominant hand because you didn’t want to ruin your crush’s nail work. He flicked on the song, it only hit him then, when the first beat started playing, he realized how much of a mistake this was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Florida man plopped his phone onto the carpet, before returning to his original posture, sliding his other hand into Georges.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just go for it</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream didn’t know what that thought meant, and he didn’t think there was any purpose in prying into it. He watched like a hawk as George went back to his handy work. Dream wasn’t stupid. He knew that even if George was an absolute nuisance sometimes, and surely it was his mission to do so, he treated Dream as if he was fine china. It was something he caught onto once they had become situated after moving in together with Sapnap, but his mind wasn’t on Sapnap, it was on George.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tune filled the air around them, providing a short-lived peace. The taller took in how George looked under the fluorescent lighting, not having much else to do. He enjoyed how George looked bathing in the fabric of his oversized hoodie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>hoodie. Well, technically not his hoodie, but one of the merch hoodies that Dream had gifted him, and frankly, the concept of George going out of his way to wear something that was Dream's made his toes curl. It was nice. It didn’t just make him feel apprenticed, it looked cute on him too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though as much as Dream wanted to believe that something was fizzling between them, it just wasn’t logical. Sure, for Dream, without a doubt, but it was completely one-sided. He watched as George took care into glazing Dream's nails with a thick coat of polish, the sight of George innocently sitting in front of him completely mesmerized by his work made Dream want to reduce to a puddle. Damn, he was whipped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I just wanted you to watch me dissolve</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>In a pool, for you</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream most definitely caught how George perked up at the choice of lyrics, he didn’t seem to react to it though. It became unbearable. The only thing Dream could now begin to think about was how close George was, how their knees were practically touching, how he could see his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Your voice like an angel</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Been chain smoking all month long</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Like you're someone I believe in</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This man, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, who he cared so deeply for, was painting his nails, and for some reason, he couldn’t get over it. George seemed to finish his work in a matter of minutes. The song was nearing the end when the burnet skewed on the cap, the bristles of brush disappearing into the liquid continents of the glass bottle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George did a good job, he always did. Though they still had yet to dry, he nailed Dream's nails. It was fucking rad. The bold red stuck out against his hands, it would be easy to see mishaps, yet there were no mistakes, no mistakes in Dream’s eyes at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream swallowed thickly, and it was just his luck that George noticed, concerned swarming his face in a matter of pure milliseconds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea.” Dream slapped on another one of his infamous grins, and he swore he could see the blood run to George’s face. It's not like he didn't know George liked his grins, but maybe he did have a chance. The younger of the two swore he could cut the tension with the running of a silver blade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just go for it</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that’s all?” The taller questioned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea, just make sure they dry.” Dream bit the inside of his lip. Was that all? Surely, surely there was more to this. He would feel horribly disappointed if so. Luckily, the world seemed to be on his side, because George spoke up. “Hey…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Georgie?” George visibly scrunched his face at the nickname.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess that song was cool, how did you find it?” There was a hint of something in George’s voice, Dream almost choked on his breath. This was his chance. He didn't want to let this go. He wanted to keep pushing. He was desperate, despite everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't know, it just reminded me of you.” And Dream dared to fucking wink. He winked. He dug himself this hole, and he was going to have to take the consequences. He was waiting for anything, anything to cope with the fact that he just possibly hit on his best friend, and George let out a sweet-sounding laugh. A laugh that sounded like music to Dream’s ears. The taller of the two forced himself to make eye contact, and god, he would have been lying through his teeth if he said seeing George all gushy and giggly didn't boost his confidence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god, George, what you do to me</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up Dream,” George said through a fit of giggles that sounded sweeter than a bird’s song.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No I’m serious, do you know what you do to me?” George had stopped laughing now and was staring all googly-eyed at Dream. George’s lips parted slightly downward in confusion, his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. Dream would have thought it was cute if it wasn't for the fact that he was in fear that he just threw himself back into the hole he just climbed out of. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, that was weird.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That is what he would have said if the words got caught in his throat. He was suspended in thought, if George had to pick a worse time to be silent, it was now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you hate me</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We can move on, it was just a joke</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thoughts filtered through Dream's head uselessly, doing no point but to continue to spi through his head making him almost nauseous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What? </span>
  </em>
  <span>That's what George’s reply was? Surely, he had expected many things, as he couldn't just narrow down on a single reply to such a statement that fiddled and played with their line between friendship and something more. What he wasn't expecting though, was that, and all Dream wanted to do now, was to feel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daringly, he moved closer to George, their lips almost touching, but not quite. He quickly became hypnotized by the way George’s breath hit him. It was so exquisite, something he couldn't describe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George could not wait. He pressed his lips against Dream's. He couldn't help himself. It was almost instinctual. Something he so desperately needed. Their chest suddenly felt heavier, their breaths hitching. George almost fully grasped Dream in his embrace but stopped himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your nail polish.” The brunette quietly remarked having to physically force himself to pull apart, still painfully close to Dream, a string of slava still connecting their lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dream mumbled. Voice scratchy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god, that’s hot</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George giggled, undoubtedly flushing up again. “Your nail polish, don't ruin it.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yea- sorry.” The blond choked out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cute. </span>
  </em>
  <span>George faintly smiled. He straddled Dream, continually holding his hands down on the carpet before moving his hands back desperately to the back of his neck, playing with the shorter hairs trailing down his neck in the process.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn't long before they leaned back into the embrace, this time though was different. The kiss was soft, appreciated. It was a nice change of pace from the needy kiss they had shared just moments before this one. Their lips worked together, their tongues slightly gilded against each other in the heat of the moment. George couldn't help the soft sigh that left him when he fell deeper into the kiss, deeper into heaven and pure bliss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They slowly pulled apart, their eyes hooked on each other as they were the only two that existed then. George’s hand was tightly wrapped around the blond locks of Dream, quiet whines could be made out as a consequence of the sweet stimulation that made its way down his spine hotly. Stimulation that Dream thought was pure work of the gods, those gods being George. Dream opened his mouth to say something, but it took a few moments before anything actually came out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think my foot fell asleep.” The brunet coughed before scoring Dream a fit of giggles. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I think theres a pun in there somewhere, I'm just to immature to edit it out. Everything happens for a reason, I was destined to write that pun anyways, so it doesn't matter.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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